Good Session
by Miss Kisharoo
Summary: It's Sunday again... Time to see Maurie, with her smell of firewhiskey and vanilla perfume, and that Hello Kitty bra of hers.


_A/N: I have no idea where this came from, so don't ask! Haha. Really enjoyed it, though, and I hope you do, too. I wrote this in the place of our Seeker. I just realized that there isn't much describing his biggest mistake as much as how life is after it, but I think I kind of pulled it off... Kinda. I mean, he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that mistake. I just realized that after I finished, so now I feel stupid. I hope you enjoy regardless, though. Thanks!_

* * *

Dennis didn't bother to knock. He thought of logic, and logic told him that it wouldn't matter either way. Maurie didn't mind. She didn't even care about privacy. At least he didn't think she did... How could she care about privacy when most of her outfits barely covered her "goods"?

_Why am I thinking of this woman like we're close friends?_

Rolling his eyes, he closed his fingers around the doorknob and went in. His face reddened immediately.

"Oi! You bloody perv!"

Maurie was leaned over the table with a sly grin on her face, long pieces of jet black hair falling on her shoulders, and a bare chest besides the flimsy fabric of her ever-present Hello Kitty bra. And Dennis knew about her Hello Kitty bra because of some unrelated fiascos with those skimpy tops of hers.

Dennis didn't know how he got into these situations. He didn't even know why he _associated_ with this woman.

"Blast it..." Dennis closed his eyes and looked down at his feet. What surprised him was that it took some effort. "The one time that I don't knock. Dear God..." He turned around grimly and grunted, "Next time, tell me when you're changing."

Maurie sighed exaggeratedly. It was a sigh that said: _Stop cramping my style_. "Who said I was changing?" she asked smoothly. Her black eyebrows arched with fake, innocent surprise.

Dennis felt hands wrapping around his shoulders, and he stiffened. The corner of his eye twitched slightly. Maurie's scent of vanilla perfume and firewhiskey overpowered him. It was a truly revolting mix of scents, but one that totally fit her. "Please... get off of me." He moaned loudly, then berated himself for doing it, just wondering what a passerby would think was going on.

The racy thought made him shiver.

"Are you cold?" Maurie whispered in his ear. She squeezed him tighter.

Dennis stepped grumpily out of her grip. "Are you drunk?" he countered. Then he thought better of it. "What a stupid question. Of _course_ you are."

Maurie didn't answer him. Instead, she looked flightily from him to her underwear, which seemed to think were slightly crooked, and pulled on them. That only confirmed Dennis's suspicions.

"Maurie, look..."

"Hold on a sec," Maurie replied, eyes narrowed. "Tell me, why in the world do you say that when you actually mean _listen_?"

Dennis ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Stop asking questions, darn it!" he moaned. "Now go over to your... desk... and sit down and do your job!"

"Right. Okay. What drink do you want—"

"Your _other _job. Your _day_ job?"

Maurie thought for a long time before she finally came to a glassy-eyed revelation. Turning drowsily, she fell into her seat at the desk, and Dennis reluctantly took his.

_This is going to take awhile._

"Right." Maurie pushed a piece of hair behind her ear with a bored expression on her face. "So, Denny, how's your day been?"

Dennis shrugged and grumbled, "Good enough for _most_ of the day."

Maurie didn't seem to notice the sarcasm lying beneath his words. She simply nodded smartly but vigorously, sending slightly sweaty coils of hair curling against the wooden desk. Perhaps, Dennis thought unconsciously, that was why she'd taken off her shirt... and her pants. Either way, he could do without the fight to keep his eyes away from her cleavage.

He was, after all, still a man.

Maurie seemed to regain her thoughts (more or less) and thus gave vent to the _completely_ logical words: "I'm annoyingly adorable but mostly annoying for _most_ of the day. That's what my boyfriend says." She paused and frowned. "Well, he's not my _boyfriend_ anymore."

"Yeah, he's your _betrothed_, isn't that right?" Dennis mumbled.

Again, Maurie seemed to be completely oblivious to the sarcasm.

"'Course not," she hiccuped. "He's my _ex_. My _e__x_!"

"Yeah, he doesn't like your Hello Kitty bra, I bet," Dennis said. "Buy one with a picture of Hermione Granger on it."

Maurie gasped. "Y'think that would help?"

"Uh huh." Dennis nodded quite convincingly, no hint of guile on his face. "That'd make your goods look much more attractive."

Maurie leaned over the desk again. Dennis tried his hardest not to look down. Propping her chin up with her hand, she pointed out, "That would be the worst mistake I'd ever made..."

Dennis raised an eyebrow slightly._  
_

"Everyone," Maurie bellowed, "would be trying to get some of _my_ goods!"

Dennis decided against speaking, and just nodded. Maybe he'd pushed the hysteria thing too far in this drunken state of hers...

"Hey Denny." Maurie suddenly sounded quite coherent. "What's the worst mistake that _you_ ever made?"

Dennis looked at her, his head slightly tilted, and then shrugged. "Dunno," he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of him.

"No, you must, you brooding lug!" Maurie dragged herself across the desk now, knocking down everything in her path. Dennis's eyes strayed from her face for just a moment until she yelled, "You're supposed to tell me _everything_! Did ya get that? _EVERYTHING_!"

"Did you forget to take your meds again?"

Maurie smirked slyly. "I stopped taking those a long time ago, Denny. A long, _long_ time ago. They didn't go well with the firewhiskey."

Dennis blinked at her. "_Right_. Why don't you go take your seat?"

"I'm perfectly fine right here. Better to see ya with."

"_Right_."

"Righto, bucko!" Maurie grinned with drunken delight. "Now, lemme think... Weren't you here because... Oh yes! You said that your biggest mistake was not going with your brother."

Dennis nodded faintly. "Actually, it's changed," he said, almost to himself. His eyes clouded with pain. "I think now... it might be not dying with him."

Maurie paused and stared at him for a long few moments. Her amber eyes cleared, and she quickly clapped him on the shoulder. She almost lost her balance as she did it, which would have sent her tumbling into Dennis's lap. "If you'd died, that would've been really bad," she uttered, quite coherent once more. "After all, we have a really good relationship."

Dennis glared at her. "You're my _therapist_."

"Every therapist needs someone to hold their hair," Maurie pointed out easily.

"Hold your hair?" Dennis's eyes narrowed. "What do you—"

The session ended when Maurie vomited onto his shoes.


End file.
